It's always interesting to me how things change.

Even things as simple as intentions, or blogs, or the combination of both. It's strange also, how quickly things can turn from new, into terrifyingly alien, overnight.

The details are important. They're exactly what kills me, every single time I think about it. It's the little things that always make things count. You never count them as anything significant, anything real. But once you do count them, you realize that they have a value that combined and in numbers, means just the same as the most beautiful or the most hurtful thing anyone could ever say. Every little look, dirty or loving. Every little smile, whether in the purest form of happiness, or in sarcastic frustration. Every little squeeze while you hold hands, whether in excitement or checking to see if you're alone. Every single "I love you" whether within the deepest and darkest parts of your heart, or in the desperation of regret. The little things count.

But those details are personal. Too personal for some bullshit blog with pathetic intentions. Those details are for me to know, and for her to know.

My details however...they don't have the same value of gravity. My details are futile and alone.

The things we seek and the things we exhaust our energy upon should be known. The things we stockpile our hurt emotions upon. They too should be known. Our hearts that are broken should be known.

And our futures that are unwritten, should not be known.

I can look back, I can examine, and I can analyze over and over and over. But I won't (I heard once if you hear a lie enough times it becomes truth). I sincerely hope that my shortcomings, don't mean forever. I hope that my faults aren't concrete. And I hope that my failures bar me from the happiness I tried to cultivate.

The same way I look back. I can also look forward. In front of me lies a person named adventure who's begging me to bed. And in the fantastic climax of me letting go of everything, I hope I see the same color bars I keep singing about. I hope horizon speaks to me and I hope it means exactly what it says.

"Everyone wants me to ride into the sun. But I ain't gonna go down."

And I won't. Because after listening to "We Are The Romans" for the millionth time. I think I will join our friends.

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Things, finally, were starting to go my way.

Basically I've got things with my move lined up. I've got a place to stay once I get there, to get on my feet. I have several jobs lined up at familiar places (music stores, record stores, etc). I sold my old car. I bought a new car. I got my new amp. I got my reverb pedal. I'm making plans with old friends. I'm saying goodbyes to people instead of trying to forget them. I've made amends with flames long gone cold. I've made plans for a better life. And I'm really, really happy.

One phone call is all it takes to really put things in perspective.

I don't think I've ever felt more of a "check" in my gut from a few sentences. Not from any romance gone awry, Not from any betrayal of any friend. Not from any call or confrontation. Not from anyone announcing literal death.

I think perspective is an interesting thing because it's almost like someone is holding these blinders around your eyes from behind you. Most of the time you can grab hold of those hands and look at the things you want to see, you can view the world from the periscope you so choose to focus. But sometimes, once in a while, that person holding those blinders tosses your helpless hands to your side and points your open eyes to something you don't want to see. It makes you analyze and confront the truths that stand in front of you. No loopholes. No guessing. No looking at it for anything that it is, except for what it is entirely.

There's no reason for names. There's no reason for details.

I just know that in some way, and (more likely) in many ways, I'll miss you.
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I haven't had a serious opportunity to update this and so I've been writing the past two entries as I felt needed.

It's hard to describe or explain how I feel about my entire situation. There's so many, and there's so much complexity to each one. I think there are certain aspects to each one that just fuck with my head. And if you combine a little fucking with my head with eight-thousand situations, it turns in to me being pulled in a million directions emotionally. It's never gotten easier with my coming of age...I don't know if I'd ever call it a coming of age. It's more like I left one age, and now I'm just going. I know I'm not standing still, but I'm not entirely sure where I'm going. It's sort of just this movement that I keep pushing. It's like, I'm still pushing and pushing but I don't know if there's a goal I'm moving towards. I think it's more like, I'm pushing, just to get away from where I was. I don't think there's a better place I could be going necessarily, but I think my distaste for my past is the fuel to my engine.

It's a complicated matter (one of many like I've talked about), moving forward. It's hard because if you look at everything in your past with some sort of, disappointment. Without careful consideration and constant action, you'll probably end up with some sort of bitterness. And while I'm not saying bitterness can't be used as a tool for improvement, it's a rough one. But for me, I think it's always been effective. But sometimes it hurts. My lackluster efforts have never been rewarded and now that I'm basically leaving everything in my life behind, my efforts have been multiplied and I think I'm starting to understand that there are more elements to this whole thing than just my own efforts. I think I can finally say that my bitterness hasn't overrun my personal outlook, especially on myself. It's still a work in progress. But I'm trying. There's so much darkness surrounding me, I don't know if I'll ever get out. But I have to keep on pushing because I don't love where I am. My thirst for a better life won't ever be filled. And I say that without bitterness.